


We'll Start With the Riding Crop

by musicprincess1990



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mild Language, Omega Verse, Romance, Sherlolly Appreciation Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29928042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicprincess1990/pseuds/musicprincess1990
Summary: For Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2021. An Omegaverse twist to the first scene in which we meet our favorite pairing.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47
Collections: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2021





	We'll Start With the Riding Crop

**Author's Note:**

> I’m baaaaaack!! A day late and a dollar short, but I'm back! That hiatus was much needed, but I definitely missed all you lovely readers. Anyway, let’s get this week going! I’m opening with something I have never tried before: Omegaverse. I’ve been wanting to try this on for size for ages, and finally—finally!—found the inspiration to do so.
> 
> And Lawd have mercy, this turned out FILTHY!! I’ve pulled out all the stops with this one, it’s a full and hearty Explicit, so for those of you who aren’t interested in reading any of that, be warned. Anyway, thanks for being you!
> 
> HAPPY SHERLOLLY WEEK!!!

“We’ll start with the riding crop.”

 _Shit_.

If those words, uttered in his deep, velvety baritone, weren’t enough to send a stream of filthy thoughts through her mind, the sight of him brutally beating the corpse of a former colleague would have sealed the deal. It was so wrong… so horrible… so _maddeningly arousing…_ It should be against the law to be that damned appealing to _anyone_ _,_ much less an Omega who hadn’t been with an Alpha since her uni days. And all that pent up frustration was about to explode.

The burning rush of pheromones washed over her so suddenly she gasped aloud, then immediately closed her throat to force down a moan. The normally soft and sheer fibers of her ruffled blouse chafed against her overly sensitive skin, and she clenched her fists to avoid the temptation to shuck off every uncomfortable piece of clothing. She was at work, dammit! Not to mention, she was a full month early for her cycle! Oh, why did she have to go into heat _now?_

Because of _him._

This man, this impossible, infuriating, insanely gorgeous man had been her undoing. She’d known he was Alpha the moment she met him—not from his smell, though that would have tipped her off had she not figured it out already. Everything about him, from his steely eyes to his long, purposeful strides, to the commanding tone of his voice… he absolutely _oozed_ Alpha dominance. It had been hard enough to resist during that first meeting, but at least she hadn’t gone into heat then. She’d managed to keep her wits about her, enough to prove that she was more than competent, and knew her way around both the lab and the morgue. She had been entirely professional, despite her instant attraction and imaginative fantasies.

Now the bastard had to go and pummel a corpse with a fucking _riding crop,_ setting off a spontaneous heat in the Omega watching. Who, as it happened, had been arse over tits in love with him since she first saw his damned cheekbones.

It wasn't the violence itself that had shaken her and set her aflame; she'd never been one for BDSM, preferring a more mellow form of dominance. It was more the show of strength, skill, and passion— _dear God, the passion!_ —that had her burning for him. At the most inconvenient time and place imaginable.

_Sod it._

Compelled by her mounting frustration, Molly stalked away from the window and reentered the morgue. If she was going down, then by God, she was taking him with her. She paused mid-step as the full potency of his scent surrounded her, and she couldn’t hold back the softest whisper of a moan as her body reacted accordingly. Warm wetness gushed between her legs, and her skin burned hotter still, perspiration beading along her hairline and down her torso.

Sherlock half-turned toward her, then froze. Molly watched his throat convulse as he swallowed hard, and his nostrils flared, taking in her scent.

“ _Shit_ ,” he muttered.

“I’ll say,” she breathed, gritting her teeth against the wave of fresh arousal brought on by his voice, which, somehow, was even deeper than usual. _It’s your own damn fault,_ she wanted to say, but like any good Omega, she bit her tongue and waited for him to make the first move. That was how this worked, after all. She could present herself to him (as regressive as that sounded, there was really no other way to put it), but he had to _choose_ her, had to _want_ her. The rational side of her brain argued that obviously, he wouldn’t want her, and she should just walk away. Unfortunately, that side had been silenced and shoved into a corner at the back of her mind, drowned out by sheer, animalistic need.

Molly continued to watch him, drank in the sight of his glorious profile, and a muscle in his jaw twitched once… twice… and then finally, he stood and faced her. She was briefly distracted by the proud and prominent tent in his trousers, and a shudder rippled through her. He stepped toward her, and she wrenched her gaze up to meet his, which did little to suppress the tremors of want. They were entirely focused on her, the pale blue-green of his irises barely visible around the wide black of his pupils. And he looked absolutely furious with her.

 _Good._ She was furious with him, too. But that was buried far beneath layer upon layer of lust, which was rather more important to her at the moment.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the door opened behind her, and Molly let out a quiet growl of frustration. _Not now!_ she wanted to scream, but the words died in her throat as she turned to see a second Alpha entered the room. _Oh, hell._ He was a lab tech, relatively new to the hospital, and she couldn’t seem to remember his name. But as his eyes landed on her, Molly found herself inching closer to the newcomer. His nostrils flared at the same time that she breathed in his scent. He smelled lovely, not as good as Sherlock, but still quite appealing. And judging by the look on his face, he was more than willing to give her what she needed.

Before she could take a proper step toward him, however, a snarl sounded behind her, and in a blur of movement, Sherlock stood between them. His fist collided with the poor man’s abdomen, and while he was still doubled over and trying desperately to breathe in, Sherlock grabbed him by the shirt and tossed him out into the hallway. He slammed the door shut and locked it for good measure, before rounding on her, eyes blazing.

“Oh,” she exhaled roughly.

“Yes, _oh_ ,” he growled, and slowly advanced toward her like a hunter and his prey. “You started this with me, you’re going to finish it _with me_.”

Molly tried for an incredulous laugh, but it came out sounding more like a pant. “ _I_ started this?” she countered, backing slowly away from him. “Mr. Let-Me-Just-Whip-Out-My-Riding-Crop-And-Beat-A-Dead-Man-To-Shreds?”

In a move so fast her mind didn’t register it, he had her pinned to the wall, his hands flat against the surface on either side of her head. “Ignorance doesn’t suit you, Molly. You walked in the room knowing full well what you were doing, don’t pretend otherwise. You knew just what it would do to me.”

“I didn’t actually,” she managed, even as her temperature climbed at a rapid pace. She still had some pride, however little of it was left now.

“And then,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, “just as I had given in, ready to give you exactly what you want… you turned your back and damn near followed that idiot nurse instead.”

"L-lab tech," she corrected weakly.

"I don't care what he is," he ground out through his teeth, pressing more firmly against her. "You don’t get to tempt me, then try to leave me behind for the next Alpha to come along, who would have barely satisfied you. Not when I’ve been tormented, barely clinging to my sanity for _months,_ out of my mind with lust for you.”

Molly let out a helpless, breathy moan at his words, unconsciously tilting her head to give him better access to her throat. “P-please, Sherlock,” she whimpered, wanting to end this conversation as fast as possible, pride be damned.

He bent his head and sniffed loudly, slowly, savoring her as though she were the finest wine. “Wait here,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning across the skin of her throat, eliciting another moan from her. As if she wanted to go anywhere… but an involuntary whine slipped out as he crossed the room and flicked off the lights. There was just enough light from the adjacent room pouring in through the window, allowing them to see without being seen. Not that this was a particularly high-traffic corner of the hospital. The lab tech had more than likely stomped off by now, and wouldn’t be in a hurry to let people know he’d been soundly thrashed by another Alpha. The male ego was a fragile thing, even more so in Alphas.

Sherlock faced her again, watching her as he grabbed his coat from atop one of the unused autopsy tables. _Oh God,_ she suddenly remembered, _there’s a dead body in here._ But as he laid his coat open on the floor, the intent behind it plain as day, she decided she didn’t care. She just needed him.

He stood, eyes still trained on her, and held out a hand. “Come,” he ordered, and _oh,_ she very nearly did, though that was clearly not what he meant. She took a couple of wobbly steps, then placed her hand in his. He yanked her toward him and buried his face against her neck. “I’m going to mark you, Molly,” he growled. “I want to make certain you are never tempted by another man. I want to make you _mine._ If that is not what you want, tell me now.”

Molly felt dazed, lightheaded, and utterly senseless with desire. Sherlock backed away to look her in the eye, and she realized she had not actually responded. Unable to find her voice, she nodded once, then again with more fervor.

It was all the encouragement he needed. His lips crashed onto hers, sending waves of fire through her bloodstream. Unable to remain passive any longer, Molly ran trembling hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and along his neck. Her fingers crept up into his hair, nails lightly scraping against his (apparently _very_ sensitive) scalp, and he rutted against her with a low growl. His warm, calloused fingers left a burning trail as he skimmed them along her sides, past her hips, down her thighs, before hoisting her up against him. Molly gasped at the feel of his fully-clothed erection against her, so close to the edge she could hardly breathe. She was entirely unaware that he had started to move, and let out another gasp as her back hit the wall. He ground against her core, hitting just the right spot, and a familiar, delicious heat bloomed low in her belly. It wasn't long before she came, wailing through her first orgasm.

Sherlock chuckled, the low rumbling sound only adding to her pleasure. “Tut, tut,” he smirked. “We haven’t even started yet.”

_Oh, God._

“Not quite,” he quipped, and she realized she’d said that thought aloud. His hands guided her legs back down, allowing her to stand—or rather, to lean against the wall while her legs trembled—as he made quick work of her trousers. Molly reached up to unbutton her blouse, but Sherlock’s hands stopped her, encircling her wrists and pinning them above her head. “Be still,” he ordered, and she obeyed. He gripped her blouse at the neck and proceeded to rip it down the front. Perhaps she ought to have been upset that he'd ruined it, but the moment his warm hands met her bare skin, all conscious thought fled her mind.

“God, Sherlock, I need you,” she whimpered, the ache between her legs growing ever more insistent. “ _Please_.”

Sherlock seemed to have lost his patience as well, and roughly divested her of her bra and knickers. He stepped back and took a moment to appreciate her form, and Molly reveled in the lascivious gleam in his eyes. “God, Molly, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, and his breath quickened as he rushed to remove his own clothes. Molly reached out to help him, and this time, he allowed it. She gave his tailored white shirt the same treatment he’d given her blouse, sending buttons flying in all directions. The moment they were free of all barriers, they came together like magnets. He scooped her up and set her on his coat, and hovered above her on his hands and knees.

“Are you ready for me, Molly?” he asked, then trailed one hand along her belly, past the dark curls and directly into her dripping sex. Her back arched at the sensation, and Sherlock’s eyes glittered as he watched her. “Shall I make you come this way?” Molly responded with a moan, which he took as a yes. His deft fingers played her like a Stradivarius, his thumb circling her clit while he pushed one, then two, then three fingers inside her.

After an embarrassingly short amount of time, she reached her second climax, and he withdrew his hand. Before she could do more than whine in protest, he positioned his shaft at her opening, and entered her with a slow thrust. Molly’s eyes rolled back in her head from the sheer pleasure of being stretched nearly to her breaking point. “Fuuuuuck,” Sherlock muttered, “you’re so _tight._ ”

And then, no further words were said. Sherlock set a punishing rhythm, pounding into her with ferocity. In minutes, she could feel his knot rising, and another orgasm building right along with it. He lowered his head and worked the skin on her throat with his teeth, breaking the skin at the very same moment she crested for the third time. His tongue darted out to lick the mark he'd made, and with a final thrust and a low groan, he pushed his knot inside her.

The hot splash of his seed inside her set off another, smaller climax in her, and they gasped in unison, holding fast to one another as though they were each other's lifeline. Sherlock rolled a bit, still locked inside her, and positioned them both on their sides, facing one another. His lips ghosted over the skin of her forehead, not quite a kiss, and his arms tightened a fraction around her. Molly nuzzled closer, drinking in the feeling of safety and utter bliss.

As his knot began to slowly recede, Molly's heat followed suit, though she knew it was only the ebb tide of a cycle that would repeat and repeat over the next few days. As sense and coherent thought returned, an embarrassed flush spread over her face. "Well," she mumbled. "That happened."

Sherlock laughed softly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We'll have to hurry to Baker Street once we're able to separate." He paused, his eyes drifting in thought. "I'll ring Mrs. Hudson on the way, she can leave some biscuits out for us. I've never understood the need to feed one's bondmate before, but oddly enough, I do feel the urge to do so."

Molly's blush deepened. She recognized the name as belonging to his landlady, though she'd never met the woman. _That's bound to be an awkward introduction,_ she thought, her insides twisting in apprehension.

Sherlock’s warm fingers took hold of her chin, prompting her to meet his eyes. "Why are you embarrassed? This is perfectly natural, there's no need to be ashamed. Mrs. Hudson certainly won't pass judgment. If anything, she'll likely be a bit overly enthusiastic in her support of us."

Hearing the word "us" from his lips sent a little thrill up her spine, but did not distract her. "I'm not ashamed. Just… not the kind of first impression I'd like to make. And I'm not keen on the idea of having witnesses."

He smiled at her. "Want to keep me all to yourself, do you?" he teased, gently nudging the tip of her nose with his.

Molly nudged him back. "Is that so wrong?"

"Not in the least. I rather like the thought of keeping _you_ to myself as well."

A trickle of uncertainty crept in, and Molly bit her lip nervously. "Even though I trapped you into this?"

Sherlock reared his head back. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"Well, I came into the room knowing full well what I was doing," she parroted his words back to him.

He sighed, a shadow crossing his features. "I did say that, didn't I?" Molly nodded, and he dragged a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Molly. I have been fighting against my feelings for you for some time, purely out of fear. Fear of change, fear of rejection—yes, rejection," he confirmed at her look of surprise. "You are kindness itself, and I am… well… _not_ ," he finished with a quirk of his brow that brought a smile to her face. "I can't change the mistake I made, but if you'll let me, I will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you."

Molly grinned unreservedly. "Sounds fair to me."

Sherlock surged forward, planting a fierce kiss on her lips that soon had her temperature rising again. With great effort, they separated themselves and dressed as best they could (having ruined a good portion of their clothes), before making their way toward Baker Street, and toward their future.


End file.
